


How To Make A Werewolf Stop Yelling

by ohgrayriver



Category: Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgrayriver/pseuds/ohgrayriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which Stiles Does Something Reckless And Derek Gets Mad About it</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Make A Werewolf Stop Yelling

Stiles is terrified of Derek. And not just because he can grow claws, his inability to speak without growling, and his intense glares. Not that those aren’t factors. Because they definitely are. But it’s more. It’s the feeling he gets in the pit of his stomach when he catches sight of him. It’s the way Derek’s eyes linger on him when they’re near each other. It’s the sheer mass of the guy, honestly, no one should have that many muscles. 

So yeah, Stiles finds him terrifying. And he’s not really sure how he ends up alone with Derek in his loft after an aborted attempt to get intel on the new threat in their lives. But he finds himself backed up against the wall by Derek’s quickly advancing form, barking about his idiocy and ability to put himself in danger. He smirks at the thought of Derek barking, because ha, he’s a werewolf. But that’s obviously a tactical error because Derek turns a disturbing shade of red. When Derek’s arms bracket him in, his face pressed close to Stiles’, he stops rolling his eyes and gulps deeply. Derek doesn’t let up though, still yelling about how Stiles must want to be a chew toy for the pack of Alphas. 

"Dude, okay," he says, "you’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone." Which leaves Derek looking confused and wary, like this might be some trick on Stiles’ part. He stays there, invading his space, studying his face for signs of an errant grin or maybe even an eye twitch that would reveal the truth.

So Stiles does something that his brain obviously does not discuss with his body beforehand. He leans forward and presses his mouth to Derek’s. Derek tenses against Stiles, and that’s when he realizes what he’s done. He pulls away with a stammer, completely certain that his bad decision making will finally, actually, get him killed this time, turned into so much werewolf chum. He doesn’t anticipate the deep sound that comes from somewhere inside Derek’s chest. He absolutely doesn’t anticipate Derek dipping his head down and returning his kiss. 

There’s heat, and stubble rubbing against his chin, and he’s got one hand pressed to Derek’s ridiculously hard chest and the other clutching his shoulder, fingers digging into the leather jacket. Derek has a hand wrapped around the back of his neck when he deepens the kiss and Stiles’ knees feel weak. 

He’s not sure how long they stay there, pressed against the wall and each other. But Derek eventually pulls back. 

"You’re still an idiot."

This Stiles agrees with, because if he had known how good this would feel, he would have kissed Derek a long time ago. He opens his mouth to say as much, but before he can get any of the words out, Derek’s mouth is there against his again.

And it really does feel like electricity is flowing through his veins and there definitely is something warm pooling in his lower stomach. All of which he thought were horrible romance novel clichés (Okay, so in an effort to feel closer to his mom, Stiles was in the process of reading the books she left behind. It’s not his fault she had a fondness for bodice rippers), but right now, with Derek pressing against him and his fingers massaging the back of his neck, he thinks the writers all knew exactly what they were talking about.

He slides his hand down Derek’s chest and pushes under his shirt. He leaves his palm pressed against Derek’s lower chest and is rewarded for it when Derek lets out an honest-to-God whimper. Yes, that’s right- he, Stiles Stilinski, managed to make Derek Hale, super stoic alpha wolf, whimper into his mouth. It tastes like triumph, but before he can really savor it, Derek is pushing away from him and backing across the empty space of the room.

Stiles stares after him in confusion, wondering if the whimper meant something bad and he had interpreted it all wrong.

But he understands a second later when Isaac comes clambering down the stairs, red faced and avoiding all eye contact.

“Next time just tell me. Before it gets this far because really those are some noises and smells I’ll be having nightmares about for weeks,” he grits out as he slams through the loft’s door

Derek rolls his eyes and gives the door his best bitchface. Stiles doesn’t think the door really appreciates it, but who is he to question Derek’s bitchface? Actually, he’s usually the first. But this time all he really wants is resume the kissing, and he doesn’t think taunting Derek is the way to accomplish that.

“Yeah, show that door who’s boss, Derek. Give it your best glare.” Then again, when did Stiles ever play it safe? Before Derek can respond with more than an exasperated glance, Stiles barrels on. “What did he mean smells? Can you really smell arousal? Holy hell, how do he and Scott survive at the high school? Ew.” He stops and bites his lip.

“Oh my God have you known this whole time?”

Derek looks down and sighs. He looks a mixture of embarrassed and amused, and Stiles is definitely not. Amused, that is. 

“Freaking werewolves. No secrecy. You’re worse than the NSA,” he mutters.

“If it makes you feel better, I couldn’t really tell who you were attracted to. Most high school guys smell like that all the time.”

“No, that doesn’t really help. And I’m pretty sure I smelled like this around you long before high school,” Stiles admits.

Derek whips his head up and brings his eyebrows together. “I thought you’ve been in love with Lydia since the womb or something like that.”

“Dude. Since the third grade thank you very much. Loving her’s a lot more socially acceptable out of a grade schooler. If I had come home and declared that I was crazy about older loner Derek Hale, I don’t think I would have gotten so many indulgent smiles and pats on the head,” he says, shrugging with his whole body.

Derek is squinting at him and Stiles has no clue what he’s thinking. And he’s really not all that good at waiting someone out.

“It would probably be fine now but it wasn’t back then, just goes to show how much can change in only a few years, huh?” He knows he should stop talking, but he can’t help it. “I mean, I’m sure my parents would have been okay, they would have been fine I bet, but you never know. And then you disappeared and I tried to move on, it wasn’t like we ever talked- it was more of a longing from afar kind of crush-“

Finally, mercifully, Derek stops him. By crowding into his personal space, yes, but look how that turned out last time. Pretty damn good, in his opinion.

“My life’s a mess, Stiles. I can’t promise you anything,” Derek says in a low voice.

Stiles swallows. “Wow, is this a DTR kind of thing already? I don’t know-“

“What’s a DTR?”

“Define the relationship? Wait, is this a relationship? Are we in a relationship now? Does kissing invoke some kind of werewolf relationship bond that-“

“Stiles. Shut up. I just…”

“Let’s just keep kissing for now,” Stiles suggests, and Derek must like that suggestion, because suddenly they are.

And that’s fine with Stiles because he’s not sure he wants to be in a relationship with Derek. There’s kind of a lot of uncertainty and life and death situations surrounding them on a weekly basis, and it’s a lot to deal with without trying to fit in date nights, and really what would date nights with Derek look like? Long drives in his Camaro while he broods out the window to a soundtrack of 70’s rock and Stiles looked on from the passenger seat? Yeah, that could wait. Right now, he was fine with just kissing.


End file.
